


No Fear in Hell

by providentialeyes



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Internalized Homophobia, Jealousy, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Possessive Sex, name kink?, they're kinda tipsy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 19:45:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19933498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/providentialeyes/pseuds/providentialeyes
Summary: "She had me in her mouth and I couldn't see her face… Just her hair," Arthur whispers, "Dark and just the right length."John slowly meets the older man's eyes, curious."I said your name," Arthur admits.





	No Fear in Hell

**Author's Note:**

> this is just something stupid and small i couldn't get out of my head

John had noticed, in the weeks leading up to his twentieth birthday, that Arthur had been watching him.

Arthur had always watched him, always looked out for him, regardless of John’s bitching about being ‘grown and able to take care of myself, Arthur’.

It was just how Arthur was, loyal and protective, fond of John despite the younger’s protests.

But this is different.

Arthur and Mary are on the splits again, and rather than becoming solemn, the older man seems angry.

Spiteful.

\--

They are on the tail end of retrieving a bounty and Arthur is in a drinking mood.

The older man pulls out a bottle after they finish their dinner and comes to recline against his rolled-up bed next to John, drinking deeply.

John shifts to look at Arthur and takes the bottle when it’s offered, sipping modestly.

“You think it’s over this time?” Arthur asks quietly.

“What?” John asks, nose scrunching up as he hands the bottle back.

“Me and Mary,” Arthur mutters hoarsely after taking another deep drink of the brown liquor.

John grimaces and scratches at his cheek, folding his legs up and pulling them close.

“I think she’s tired of tryin’,” Arthur says thickly.

“Tryin’ what?”

“To fix me,” Arthur sniffs.

John stares at the older man and swallows uncertainly, this vulnerable side of Arthur is something he hasn’t seen in years.

“What’s she tryin’ to fix?” John asks honestly.

Because to him, Arthur’s perfect.

Everything’s he’s always wanted to be, from day one to now.

Handsome, charming, kind, and strong.

Everything John feels he himself isn’t.

 _“Me,_ Kid,” Arthur says harshly, “Tryin’ to make me a good man.”

“Who said you wasn’t?” John asks, studying the despair on Arthur’s face.

“Everyone,” Arthur says quickly and then pauses, staring into the fire, taking another swig, “No one… She didn’t have to. Was clear on her face.”

John sucks on his teeth and rubs his jaw lightly, leaning forward to prop his chin on his fist, elbow on his knee.

“Y’know I met up with her once, after a job, didn’t realize there was blood on me,” Arthur whispers, “She was frantic, thought I was hurt.”

“But you weren’t,” John says quietly, seeing where this story is heading.

“She was awful calm ‘bout it, if I’m honest,” Arthur lifts a hand to rub at his nose, “But I could see she was… She was disappointed, more than anythin’. She wants such _good_ for me.”

“What drove her off this time?” John asks softly, and Arthur finally looks over at him, glancing him up and down before looking back to the flames.

“She just keeps findin’ things out ‘bout me she don’t approve of,” Arthur says roughly.

John frowns at the vague phrasing.

Normally it’s an obvious reason, to set off Mary, never totally unfounded.

She’d find out another dirty deed of Arthur’s role in the gang and decide it was all just too much, that she was better off with her peers.

Not with a wandering group of outlaws with more kills under each of their belts than pearls around her slender neck.

“What was it this time?” John asks again.

“Her family… She’s on the conservative side of things, still believes in God and the Church and all that,” Arthur mutters, “Doesn’t care much for sins of people with no faith… No fear in hell.”

John squints at Arthur in confusion, studying the older man who refuses to meet his eyes.

He watches Arthur take another swallow of liquor and John’s face relaxes in understanding.

The way Arthur’s been looking at him.

John draws his lower lip in between his teeth and feels a guilt like a lead weight in his stomach.

"Sorry," John mutters, lowering his gaze to Arthur's hand around the neck of the bottle.

He sees Arthur shift as the older man looks at him.

"What for?" Arthur asks blankly.

John rubs at his jaw roughly and shrugs weakly.

"They say bein' queer's contagious," John mutters, "You ain't been lookin' at me like this all that long."

John forces himself to stop rubbing at his face before he leaves marks and clasps his hands in his lap.

"Not near as long as I've been lookin'," John admits quietly.

Arthur's silence lets John's anxiety fester.

The younger man shifts uneasily and finally looks up to see Arthur frowning at him.

"That shit ain't true," Arthur grunts and lowers his eyes to the bottle, "And it ain't on you."

The older man sighs and holds out the bottle to John.

John takes it but doesn't drink, just sets it between his crossed legs and rubs his thumb over the ridges on the neck.

"She had me in her mouth and I couldn't see her face… Just her hair," Arthur whispers, "Dark and just the right length."

John slowly meets the older man's eyes, curious.

"I said your name," Arthur admits.

"Oh," John whispers, stunned.

Arthur's nose wrinkles and he looks back to the fire.

John taps his fingers against his face slowly, studying the older man.

A warmth building in him.

“Was… Was that the only time?” John asks slowly.

Arthur doesn’t look at him, continues to watch the flames.

“No.”

“What else happened?” John asks and hands the bottle back over, there’s a nervousness tingling up his spine, despite the growing desire in him.

He sees Arthur’s eyes flicking side to side, the older man looking trapped.

Then Arthur stands abruptly and moves as though he’s going to walk into the woods.

John shifts onto his knees hurriedly and reaches for the older man’s back, catching the base of Arthur’s suspenders and halting the older man.

“John, let go,” Arthur warns quietly.

“You can’t drop somethin’ like that on me and expect me to let you run away,” John says quietly.

“... John,” Arthur whispers, and he sounds scared.

John’s brows furrow and he pulls at Arthur’s waistband until the older man turns around.

Arthur looks down at him and inhales sharply at the sight, John on his knees at his feet, the younger’s fingers curled into Arthur’s waistband.

John looks into his eyes for a moment before keeping eye contact as he leans in and presses his mouth to the bulge of Arthur’s clothed cock.

“John,” Arthur whispers again, voice thready.

“Let me,” John says, muffled against the denim.

Arthur’s mouth works open and closed like he wants to say something, gaze darting around John’s face.

“Let me,” John repeats, a little firmer, a tinge of green in those flames within him.

He wants to show Arthur, that the older man doesn’t need Mary.

That John can be just as good.

 _‘Better, hopefully’,_ John thinks.

He pulls back slightly to undo Arthur’s pants and drawers.

When he reaches in to pull out the older man’s cock and press his lips to the head he sees Arthur’s knuckles go white in the corner of his vision, the older man’s grip on the bottle tightening.

He takes Arthur into his mouth carefully, the older man’s cock heavy and thicker than he’s had in his mouth before.

John digs the toes of his boots into the sand and closes his eyes, slowly taking Arthur deeper.

He feels the older man’s fingers brush back the hairs hanging in his face and John looks up curiously.

Arthur’s watching him with a bit of disbelief on his face, reverent as he plays with a few of the dark, tangled strands.

“Wanna know it’s you,” Arthur says hoarsely.

John hums lightly around the older man and sees Arthur’s eyes pinch in an effort to not react.

John slowly pulls off, dragging the flat of his tongue along the underside of Arthur’s cock, lingering at the tip, dragging his lower lip over the head as he pulls Arthur’s foreskin back.

“Say my name, then,” John murmurs and presses a small kiss to Arthur’s cockhead.

“Jesus,” Arthur hisses and curls the strand of John’s hair around his finger.

John huffs a small laugh and smiles up at Arthur.

“I look like Jesus, Cowboy?” John teases.

Arthur flusters and looks up, past John and towards the woods.

John spits into his palm and slicks over Arthur’s length, squeezing lightly at the base.

“Art?” John asks coyly.

Gets Arthur to meet his gaze again.

“Say it.”

“Shit,” Arthur bites out and closes his eyes as John takes his length back into his mouth, _“John.”_

John hums approvingly and bobs his head over Arthur’s length, worming his fingers through the layers of fabric to cup and roll the older man’s balls in his hand.

Arthur lifts the hand with the bottle and presses his wrist to his mouth to muffle a small moan.

John takes him in, slow and deep, just to pull off and tease the tip.

The older man can feel himself getting close, fast, and pulls John off by his hair.

The younger man looks up at him, heated and confused.

Spit leaking out of the corners of his mouth, shining in the firelight on John's chin.

Arthur closes his eyes again with another groan against his wrist and moves his other hand from John's hair to the base of his cock, grip firm.

“You close?” John asks, voice lifted in amusement.

 _“Fuck,”_ Arthur says on a breath, slowly opening his eyes, “Yeah.”

John hums quietly and moves his hands to Arthur’s hips, digging his thumbs into the meat over the older man’s hipbones.

John leans forward and lifts his chin, opening his mouth to press his tongue up against the head of Arthur’s cock.

Staring into the older man’s eyes and refusing to look away as he takes Arthur’s length back into his mouth until his lips are against the older man’s fingers.

Arthur’s chest is heaving slowly, feeling trapped by the heat in John’s gaze.

John opens his mouth a little wider, his lips grazing over the edges of Arthur’s fingers.

He makes an encouraging sound, a vibration deep in his throat that has Arthur’s hand moving back up, to tangle in John’s hair.

“John,” Arthur whispers shakily, thumb following the curve of John’s temple.

John knows it’s silly, that he can have a cock in his mouth, no shame about the bulge in his own pants, but Arthur saying his name like _that_ is what gets him blushing.

He closes his eyes and puts his all into making Arthur come, listening to the older man’s quiet sounds.

Small and needful utterances of the younger man’s name.

“Gonna…” Arthur whispers, _“John.”_

John pulls back in time to feel Arthur’s come filling his mouth.

Arthur moves back and John opens his eyes as the older man sinks down to his knees in front of him.

John meets his gaze, pressing his lips together then swallowing, his lips slowly forming a smirk as he sees Arthur’s eyes widen before the older man looks away, flustered.

“Good Christ, John,” Arthur mutters before reaching out and swatting at the younger when John starts snickering.


End file.
